Monday, September 10, 2012

"Look like Scarlett Johansson!"

One of the problems of being parents to 9-year- old twin girls is that they are already way ahead of you.

No longer are the days when a
teenager thinks you are a know nothing.
In fact, by the time some kids are teens they have grown to respect their
parent's wisdom… or at least the time they have spent on earth, and managed to stay alive. Points there.

My girls are the twin variety that spend endless HOURS discussing
things amongst themselves, and there is no infiltrating this secret sanctuary. I've decided this kind of bond happens in-utero when they were already jostling for position, hitting each other, full on Fight Club action, and comforting each other.

Most of
the time I haven’t a clue what they are going on about, but they laugh, giggle,
punch, talk at great length about subjects that belong to the Millennials, of which they barely squeak into, but technically belong: Gen Y.

I often walk around saying "I can't get a handle on you two." Then pull down the fake train bell like Scarlett. They don't even look up, just at each other rolling their eyes. The only time they pull me into their Y space is to say,

“Mom, we don’t want pasta again.”

And of course at night, when they climb into my bed and stay their clinging to me until morning.

I don’t really exist in their interior world. Just exterior; that would including driving them to parties, buying art supplies, lace, buttons and notions to sew beds for their Pet Shops, so
on. But my actions are all dictated by them, the music we listen to in the car, (Michael Jackson, Rolling Stones, Selena Gomez, Pink) to the clothes they pick out that I pay for, to the food they eat, (Pom, Granola, leafy greens.) Now they have started their own garden. They also want to purchase a goat for milk.

Which isn’t to say they are slackers when it comes to money. Quite the opposite. They love to make money,
are very busy little girls creating businesses. Want a painting of a haunted
house? Look no further. They will paint it for you for a price. A high price. What a hand sewn T-shirt made from Egyptian cotton, look no further. How about a glass of fresh lemonade from our tree? 20 bucks.

I suspect the girls will be President and V.P. one day. One always likes to take a dominant role and
that switches too. So, say, after a term, they could switch.

Which brings me to Scarlett. The girls see magazines all the
time walking in our village. They notice these women. They notice their hair
styles mainly. Not for themselves since their hair is dictated by no one, but
for me. And they love how Scarlett Johansson always looks. She is also a twin, by the way. There must be
some weird twin radar. I had no idea. But they are drawn to certain people,
and then I will later find out they have a twin. Maybe there is a secret twin service out
there. Who knows.

This was the picture.

“If you had more of a wave mom, you would look better.”

“Is there a way you get the red out of your skin?”

“Why don’t you get manicures?”

The list goes on and on. I honestly don’t mind. It’s pretty
endearing. They also tell me I don’t work out enough, so I signed them up for
Girls Run and will be a coach. That will fix em'. They are pretty angry, but not
more than me because generally I don’t EVER get involved in anything that is
school related beyond dropping them off.

This was the picture they wanted me to take to the salon. They thought this best suited my overall frumpy appearance.

So, to appease my little beauties, I had my hair done in a
flip, like Scarlett.

I also love
Scarlett, we all do. I’ve seen all
of her movies going back to the Redford
horse movie, but the girls are only able to watch We Bought A Zoo, which we
have seen six times on cable. And love it each time. We also love Matt
Damon. We have seen him in so many
movies, he’s nearly a relation.

But not
a hair candidate. But it does bring me
to this: they never make any of these types of comments about their father. He
personifies perfection. He could walk in and start throwing butcher knives at me and they would pretty much think it was reasonable behavior.

Here is result.

I would have tried to pose this better, but the girls had the camera and they wanted my face covered.

“Why are you covering my entire face?”

“You got the hair okay, but not so much the face.”

“Well you don’t get a haircut and a face off. Plus
she’s about 15 in that picture.”

“Mom, you were never pretty like that.”

Did I say this shit to my mother? Probably. But not until I
was at least 13!

“Can I at least get out of my robe?”

“Why? You wear it most of the day.”

This part is not completely true, but in their world, I have
a rotating set of clothes, robe, yoga pants and T-shirt, one long black
dress I wear for quick runs to stores and business attire for work meetings. But when I
am in a “dressy” outfit it freaks them out. They don’t recognize me. And
sometimes they cry.

So finally, I have a haircut they not only approve but love.
So this will buy me some time before I get my face planed.